Arriving in Amman

Well, my airport journey was some-what entertaining. My morning started off puking at home [don't take Zicam on an empty stomach, ever] and barely making it through security without hurling in a trash can. It would just be uncharacteristic of me if my journey started off on a normal note. Once on the airplane, I attempted to lift up my 50 pound carry on [no literally, it was 50 pounds], into the overhead compartment. Imagine a 4'11 girl trying to lift a huge ass bag with a line of antsy New Yorkers behind her. That happened. Luckily, a flight attendant and huge guy (pretty sure he was a MMA fighter, if not, sir, you should definitely consider a career change), hoisted my bag into the overhead. I heard the guy sitting next to me speaking Arabic, so I started up a conversation with the fellow, turns out he's the Air Force General for Saudi Arabia...no big deal. We had a good, long 5 hour conversation covering pretty much every topic from how his wife and daughters send him a Victoria's Secret shopping list when he comes to America, to how I should watch out for Moroccan men, because they like to party [Note to self: go to Morrocco]. I attempted to speak Arabic with him, but it pretty much failed until i'd write it down and he'd say something like, "Ahhh, you Americans and your pronunciation!" At one point he told me that the Americans stole the number "0" from the Arabs [which to all my non-Arabic learners reading this, the only number that looks somewhat relating to the number 0 is about a third of the size of the English 0 and looks like a donut hole]. I have no clue who first came up with 0, but I nodded my head and said "waaallaah?!" (meaning something along the lines of: really?! holy shit!) After the 6 hour flight to JFK, we said goodbye and he offered to take me to my terminal (the mans landed here over 500 times), but I politely refused. Dumb decision. I wandered JFK for about a half hour before getting into the Admirals club to ask where the hell I am. I knew I was in the right place when there were a group of men reciting the Muslim call to prayer at the gate. The flight from JFK to Amman was surprisingly somewhat uneventful. Consensus was that the Jordanian flight attendants were the most beautiful group of women we've ever seen. I popped a NyQuil and passed out for the majority of the flight, best decision I made all day. Arriving in Amman was easier than I expected, but I immediately realized how shitty my Arabic is. Customs were a piece of cake, he asked me something I didn't understand in Arabic, I nodded my head, and he let me through. Don't know what happened there, but hey...it worked. After getting my bags, I walked out of the baggage claim area where about 200 people were waiting for their guests, found my program director, and chilled in the airport for 45 minutes waiting for other people to get their bags. We all then piled into 10 different vans, and it became apparent to me how absolutely insane Jordanians drive. Picture the worst driver you know, take away the fact that lanes and speed limits exist, and walla! There you have a Jordanian driver. They take #YOLO to a whole new level. To my surprise, we arrived at the hotel in one piece [which, may I add, looks like a metropolitan, 4 star hotel you'd find in New York or San Francisco]. We went through routine, orientation type things, none of which are mildly entertaining, or blog-worthy.